


Taste The Bite Of Death

by questceque_cest



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, Apocalypse, F/F, F/M, M/M, Winter, Zombies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-26
Updated: 2012-09-23
Packaged: 2017-11-06 01:09:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/413048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/questceque_cest/pseuds/questceque_cest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A zombie apocalypse breaks out in the dead of winter. Five teenagers need to band together, despite their differences, in order to survive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kurt

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "They Are Night Zombies" by Sufjan Stevens.

“I’ll have a grande non-fat mocha and a grande hot chocolate, extra whip, please.”

Kurt ordered his favorite drink and watched as the Lima Bean barista grabbed the coffee cups, marking his order in black pen. He looked down at Rachel standing next to him, who was pulling off her mittens and digging through her purse in search of her wallet.

“Don’t bother, Rach, it’s my treat. I feel extra generous today,” he smiled, playfully bumping her shoulder with his.

Rachel flushed slightly and mumbled to the barista, “Oh, I’ll have a soy chai latte. Smallest possible size, please.”

“Coming up,” the barista chirped. “That will be $10.76”.  Kurt pulled his wallet from the Marc Jacobs bag slung across his shoulder and handed the woman $12 as a tip.

“Kurt, I feel awful. I mean, today was about celebrating _you_.” Rachel’s head was bent down, elbow deep in her purse, still rummaging for her wallet. 

He quirked an eyebrow in her direction and scoffed. “Seriously? Don’t worry about it. We may be celebrating me and my budding romance but I want to do this. Love has made me _extra_ nice, I suppose,” he smirked as he pulled Rachel in his arms and guided her down the counter to wait for their drinks. Kurt glanced behind and smiled softly as he saw his new boyfriend’s blond hair curl out from under a green flannel bomber hat. 

Rachel looked up at Kurt, who seemed to be in his own little world, and cooed, her index finger poking into his side.   “Kurt, I am so happy for you. Shocked, naturally, but happy. I never would have seen this coming. Quinn was _so sure_ when she said Sam wasn’t gay,” said Rachel, pursing her lips.

“Ah, yes. Well, the universe works in mysterious ways. I can’t help but pull focus, especially from the supposedly straight boys.”

Rachel rolled her eyes and pulled her mittens back onto her hands; she rubbed them together in the attempts of generating heat. “God, it is freezing tonight. It has to be at least 10 degrees outside.”

Kurt drew his scarf closer to his neck and made a disgusted sound at the thought of all the snow currently piling up on his Navigator in the parking lot. When their drinks were ready, Rachel grabbed her latte and Kurt took his mocha and Sam’s hot chocolate. He returned to the seating area and handed Sam his drink with a shy smile, his boyfriend blushing slightly as he accepted the cup. 

Rachel sat in the armchair across from them and took a slow sip from her cup. Sam had already taken off the lid of his hot chocolate and begun to lick the whipped cream that stuck on the inside. The trio quickly immersed themselves in typical conversation topics: NYADA, Glee club, and general McKinley gossip.

Once the giggles from a particularly satisfying discussion of Jacob Ben Israel’s new hair cut had died down, Rachel cleared her throat and raised her drink into the air.  With a voice already louder than normal, Rachel declared, “I would like to make a toast to Kurt and Sam!” Her eyes sparkled as the two boys looked at each other, mortified. 

“Congratulations, you two! Everyone in Glee has hoped the day would arrive when you two would realize that you’re perfect. To many mo-”   She stopped mid-sentence when she noticed a woman stumble into the Lima Bean and immediately collapsed onto the tiled floor. 

Customers rushed to the woman’s aid but recoiled in horror when they saw the blood gushing from a ragged wound in her neck and the raw skin exposed through the tatters of her yellow winter coat.   Rachel gasped and buried her face in her palms to ward off nausea. Sam fumbled into his coat pocket for his cell phone and dialed 911.

After waiting for a couple seconds, his eyes widened when he realized 911 was _busy_. “Nobody’s picking up! Isn’t the whole point of 911 is that it’s available in emergencies?” Sam’s normally calm voice cracked in panic. 

Kurt recoiled and clutched Sam’s arm as a man crashed through the coffee shop’s glass doors, stumbling amid the shards. He lurched backwards and collapsed, revealing that one of his legs was so badly mangled that part of his femur was protruding. Rachel sprinted for the couch next to Sam and Kurt and buried her face in Sam’s shoulder. Kurt looked out the bay window of the shop and squinted, trying to make out the scene outside.   Trails of bright crimson stained the crisp white snow throughout the parking lot and a group of lumbering people were making their way from car to car, banging on windows and clawing at door handles. 

“Holy crap, they look like zombies,” Sam whispered in his boyfriend’s ear. 

Rachel, overhearing, lifted her head and shot Sam a piercing glare. “Don’t be stupid, Sam, this is real life, not some dumb comic book or movie.”

Before Sam could retort, a one of the customers who had rushed to help the bleeding woman shrieked loudly and wildly pointed to the parking lot. Patrons ran to the bay windows to witness a teenage boy exiting his car and running towards the shop; he pulled his hat down over his ears to protect himself from the blowing snow, oblivious to the looming horde. As one, they turned and scrambled for the boy: one of the nearer ones tackled him and pinned him to the ground as another, a woman, began to tear at his abdomen, spilling blood and strings of intestines into the slush. 

Bursts of cries, screams and gasps filled the shop as patrons clamored to the side door, hoping to escape unnoticed by the group of _killers_ outside.  Just as the last stragglers had shoved their way through to the parking lot, the ravenous horde descended upon them, meeting the same unfortunate fate as the boy. 

“So, what do we do?” asked Kurt, his voice wavering.  He turned to Sam, who seemed to be deep in thought.

“I have an idea? It might work. I dunno, hopefully. I’ve played enough _Left 4 Dead_ to know that hordes of zombies or whatever are attracted to loud sounds, like police sirens and stuff. Rachel, your car is parked around the back of the store, right?” Sam asked, staring intensely at her.

She nodded quickly, her eyes still bugged in terror. Sam thrust out his hand, open palmed, and demanded her car keys. Rachel reached into her coat pocket and with shaky hands, fumbled the keys towards Sam. He smile weakly at Rachel, kissed Kurt’s cheek, and made his way towards the back of the shop.

 _Please know what you’re doing Sam_ thought Kurt as he gripped Rachel’s hand firmly.  She was bouncing her leg rapidly, her gaze focused on the man and woman lying mere feet away, blood oozing from their motionless bodies. 

“They can’t actually be zombies, right?” she asked quietly, as if not expecting an answer. 

Kurt jumped as the obnoxiously loud car alarm of Rachel’s Ford blared from around the back of the Lima Bean. He watched as the group, who was in mid-devour, cock their heads towards the sound. They ran past the shop into the parking lot behind in search of the origin of the alarm.

Quickly, Sam ran from the back to join Rachel and Kurt in the seating area. Sam flipped the keys to Rachel.   “Sorry for using your car as bait. Plus side is the parking lot is deserted. You know, except for the bodies,” he panted, slightly out of breath from a combination of nerves and adrenaline. 

Kurt flung his arms around Sam’s neck and pulled him into a tight embrace. Sam, startled by the forceful hug, blushed under Kurt’s touch and held him tightly.

“You are so amazing. I am never going to discourage your gaming habits ever again,” Kurt breathed into Sam’s neck. He could feel Sam grin against his cheek.  Pulling back from the embrace, Kurt grabbed his car keys from his bag, took Sam’s arm, and made his way to the broken front door.  Sam took Rachel’s mittened hand and dragged her along. 

The three stepped through the shattered door and carefully made their way to Kurt’s Navigator. They picked their way along the icy pavement, the darkness causing them to be unsure as to what exactly they were stepping over. Frankly, they didn’t really _want_ to know.

Kurt, unlocked the SUV, willing his shaking fingers not to fumble and set off an alarm. With Kurt in the driver’s seat, Sam in the passenger seat, and Rachel in the back, they flung their bags on the car floor as Kurt jammed his keys into the ignition. He jerked them to the right and felt his heart catch in his chest as the engine sputtered and faltered.     _Fuck you, winter._

He desperately turned the keys once again to no avail; the Navigator let out a high pitched whine as the engine desperately tried to catch.

“Oh God,” moaned Rachel, as she wiped the fogging windows in the back seat. The whining of the engine was loud enough that it managed to attract the attention of a couple stray runners. 

“Fuckfuck _fuck_ ”, repeated Kurt as he tried to start the engine. He looked to Sam, his eyes round. “Do you have any other useful knowledge?” As if to answer, Sam grabbed Kurt’s hand tightly and smiled sadly tears brimming in his eyes. 

Rachel screamed as the woman in a shredded yellow coat flung herself at the window and began to rapidly scratch the window. Two more zombies began to claw at the door handle, pulling wildly in obvious frustration. Kurt felt the car rock to the side as Rachel dove onto the floor, desperate to do _anything_ to get farther away from the maniacs outside.

Sam jumped as a large zombie lept onto the hood of the Navigator and began to punch the windshield.  The two boys gripped their hands together even tighter and braced themselves for the worst.

Suddenly, the thrashing and thumping from the side of the car stopped, and the trio heard the sickening thud of bodies hitting the pavement. Rachel uncovered her eyes, climbed up onto the seat and peeked out the car window. Three bodies lay on the snow, blood pooling from their heads. Obvious trauma was inflicted upon them; a car ice scraper was even jutting out of the yellow coat woman’s eye.

Kurt and Sam gasped from the front seat as a figure in a black parka and scarf pulled over his face began beating the zombie on the windshield with a small snow shovel. The man grabbed for the figure but with one swift smack to the head, the runner fell backwards off the hood, snapping its neck in the process.

The man knocked on Kurt’s side window and motioned for him to exit the SUV. Kurt complied after a moment’s hesitation, praying that this person wasn’t just a smarter kind of zombie or whatever they were dealing with.   Sam offered his hand to the stranger and stammered a hurricane of thank yous, while Rachel flung her arms around their savior. Kurt just stared incredulously, his mouth open wide.

The stranger pulled down his scarf, grinned at the three and said with a wink, “You owe me one, gay face.”

“Sebastian.”   Kurt gaped at the smug face of the teenager to whom he despised. Loathed. Abhorred.    _I’d rather be eaten by zombies,_ he thought, his face contorting into disgust.

Rachel released her grip on Sebastian’s waist and stumbled backwards between the two boys.

“Hey Barbra. Lady. Blondie. Bet you’re glad to see me at the Lima Bean for once,” Sebastian smirked. “Now, I understand why Rachel’s here, Kurt. I mean, she _is_ your favorite hag. I do have to say that I’m surprised your precious Warbler isn’t fighting off zombies with you. Tell me, where is that gelled Adonis?” laughed Sebastian as he stared directly into Kurt’s eyes. Sam glanced over at Kurt uncomfortably and cleared his throat.

Kurt’s brow narrowed with anger and began, “If you must know, Sebastian, I ended things with Blaine a couple months ago, I didn’t appreciate how often the two of you spoke behind my back. I figured it would be best to sever ties and start fresh,” smiled Kurt as he reached behind Rachel’s back to link arms with Sam and gave him a reassuring squeeze.

Sebastian turned up his nose and looked at Sam. “So you decided to go after Steve Tyler here? God, Kurt, your taste in men keeps getting worse and worse.”

“Watch it, dude. And my name is _Sam_ ”. Sam’s tone was biting and he stepped forward to Sebastian as Sebastian took a step back laughing, throwing his hands up in the air. Rachel gingerly placed her fingertips to Sam’s chest to stabilize him.

“Look, guys, in case you’ve forgotten, we’re standing in a parking lot, at dusk, in the freezing cold and snow, in an area where the _living dead_ are roaming. My car alarm won’t be triggered forever. We have to escape.”

“Rachel’s right,” breathed Kurt. “We should leave immediately. My dad and Carole are out of town this weekend checking out colleges with Finn.  The four of us can stay at my house, provided that it’s free of those _things_ ” Kurt spit out. He turned to Sebastian. “As you can see, my car is refusing to start. How did you get to the Lima Bean?”

“Drove here in my mother’s BMW, actually”. Sebastian pointed across the parking lot to a sapphire sedan covered with a thin layer of snow.

Swallowing his pride, Kurt said, “Please take us to my house, Sebastian. You can stay and help us fight off the zombies. We need you. ”

Sebastian looked at the three sets of eyes trying to read his face and nodded quickly.

“Might as well keep you idiots company. God knows without me you’d have ended up like them,,” he said, idly poking at one of the corpses with his shovel.

Sebastian bent down to pull the ice scraper from the woman’s eye socket; it came out with a sickening pop and Sebastian wiped off the blood on his pants. He tossed it to Kurt, who fumbled and nearly dropped it. Sebastian retrieved a set of keys from his pocket and set off for his car without even looking back.   Kurt glowered - _Of course the asshole wouldn’t wait for us_ \- and followed him, his arm still interlocked with his boyfriend’s.  Behind him, he could hear Rachel tentatively trudging her way through the slush, blood, and whatever else was covering the parking lot.

He froze as loud, tinny music filled the parking lot. He spun around and saw Rachel’s face flush as her cell phone rang from inside her coat pocket.

_Oh, God._

Sebastian stopped in his tracks and turned to glare at the girl. Sam and Kurt held their breaths as Rachel fiddled with her phone. She bit the tip of her glove and pulled it off her hand with her teeth so she could work the touch screen. The music continued to play until Rachel slid the call rejection bar across the screen, not even bothering to see who was trying to reach her. 

Breathing out a sigh of relief, she smiled and set her phone to vibrate. She turned to Sebastian, gave him a thumbs up, and he continued heading to his car. Rachel jogged ahead of Kurt and Sam, careful to watch her step to avoid tripping on bodies or slipping on ice.

Kurt noticed a shadow looming from behind the Lima Bean as a horde of zombies walked towards them. He nudged Sam with his elbow and nodded in the direction of the herd. The two boys broke apart and increased their pace towards the BMW.

Sam jogged up to Rachel, placed his hand behind her back, and began to push her forward.

Sebastian, just reaching his car, turned around and saw Sam and Rachel quickly walking to the car with Kurt shortly behind them. From around the corner of the building, handfuls of zombies were lumbering their way.

From the back of the group, one zombie sprinted ahead of the pack, shoving other creatures out of its way with enough force to knock a few of them over.

“ _Run_!” shouted Sebastian as he unlocked the BMW and jumped into the driver’s seat. Sam, Rachel, and Kurt bolted toward the car and headed for the closest door. Sam made it to the back seat, opened the door and let Rachel jump in head first.

Sebastian started the BMW and its engine roared into the night. Sam opened the front passenger door for Kurt, then climbed into the backseat after Rachel and slammed the door.

Kurt could hear a low, guttural moaning gaining rapidly behind him. Suddenly, the world became a blur as he hit the pavement face down, slush and snow drenching his clothes. His face ached from the sting of slush covering his eyes as the strong taste of rock salt covered his lips. The ice scraper he was holding flew out of his hands and landed a short distance away.

Struggling to his feet, Kurt turned around and glimpsed at a patch of ice where he had fallen. He stumbled towards the ice scraper, a sharp pain lacing through his knee. He picked it up and took a wincing step backwards.   The sprinting zombie gained Kurt’s lead and ran full force into him, his nails frantically grabbing ahold of Kurt’s shoulders.

Instinctively, Kurt twirled the scraper in his hand and stabbed at the face that was gnashing its teeth in Kurt’s direction. Using the corner of the scraper, Kurt stabbed upwards into the zombie’s chin until he could see the point piercing through the his tongue and into its open mouth.

The zombie snarled and loosened its grip on Kurt’s shoulders and attempted to remove the scraper from its jaw. Kurt yanked the tool with all his force and broke its jaw, spraying blood, saliva, and pieces tongue into Kurt’s face and hair. It stumbled backwards, clutching its face. Kurt turned on his heels and ran towards the BMW, ignoring the pain in his leg.

Kurt climbed into the passenger seat and slammed the door shut behind him. Sebastian revved the engine tore through the parking lot, running over bodies in the process.  He turned onto the main road and headed towards Kurt’s neighborhood.

“Holy _fuck._ Thank God you’re okay, Kurt,” Sebastian said with a relieved tone. “You cut it pretty close.”

Kurt looked over to the driver and smiled weakly.   “I’m lucky I had all those sai lessons growing up. I know my way around sharpened objects,” he said as he tossed the ice scraper onto the car floor. Kurt gingerly rubbed the corner of his eye and frowned. “God, this stings,” he groaned.

Sebastian turned to Kurt and flashed him a wicked grin. “You should be used to having slush thrown in that pretty little face of yours. At least the salt didn’t get in your eyes,” he said with a wink.

“You are quite possibly the worst person in the world,” Kurt scoffed. He turned to look into the backseat and saw Rachel with tears welling in her eyes.  Sam held her hand and stared at Kurt with a look of helplessness.

Kurt gave them a reassuring smile and turned to look into the side mirror, grimacing at the state of his face and hair. He heard Sam rooting around on the car floor behind him.

“Here,” Sam said softly as he held a tissue box in front and offered it to Kurt, who pulled a few from the box and stared fondly at his boyfriend.

Kurt mouthed _thank you_ and began to gently wipe his face free of the blood and dirt.    _I suppose I should kiss my skin care regime goodbye,_  Kurt thought as he examined his pores in the mirror. 

“Maybe in the future, Yentl, you could put your phone on silent or something? You almost got us killed.” Sebastian looked in his review mirror at Rachel and frowned.

Rachel nodded and apologized. “It’s already on vibrate, don’t worry,” she replied.

“By the way, who even called you?” Kurt asked as he balled up the tissues and pitched them onto the car floor.

“Oh, I don’t know, I didn’t check,” Rachel smiled in disbelief.  She reached into pocket, took off her glove, and unlocked her phone.

A message appeared on her home screen in bright red lettering:

_1 Missed Call from Santana Lopez._


	2. Santana

Santana laid back against her pillow and placed her hands behind her head. She sighed contently, staring outside as she watched the gently falling snowflakes swirl, illuminated against the streetlights. She glanced to the foot of her bed where Brittany was braiding Mercedes’ hair with brightly colored ribbons. Santana snorted as Britt threaded a thick, purple, velvet ribbon through a lock of the other girl’s hair, noting how Mercedes turned her nose up at her appearance in the dresser mirror. 

Brittany softly clapped her hands together. “You look beautiful, Mercedes. Just like a princess,” she grinned, obviously pleased with her work.

Mercedes patted Brittany’s leg. “Thanks Brittany. Santana, your girlfriend should be a professional hair stylist,” teased Mercedes, smirking. “I should go, though. It’s getting dark and I heard the snow isn’t going to be letting up any time soon. Want me to drive you home, Britt?” she asked.

“Aw, I guess so.” Brittany pouted a little, but stood up from Santana's bed, making her way to the door. Mercedes followed, stopping for one last look in the mirror. She rolled her eyes at Santana, who only gave Mercedes a wide grin.

The three girls made their way down the stairs into the front foyer. When she and Brittany were done bundling up, Mercedes pulled her car keys from her purse and Santana opened the front door. Santana hugged her friend before leaning into Brittany’s face as she threw her arms around Santana’s shoulders, drawing her into a chaste kiss. Brittany pulled away and coyly smiled at her girlfriend as she followed Mercedes into the cold late-February air.

“Have a good weekend, I’ll text you later!” called Mercedes as she climbed into the driver’s seat. Brittany waved and blew Santana a kiss.

“Drive safe,” answered Santana as she shut her front door, watching Mercedes drive slowly through the snow.

Santana locked her front door and made her way back towards her bedroom. Her parents had just left to visit relatives in the Dominican, so she was eager to spend the week unsupervised.  Already planning a weekend of raging parties, she flopped backwards on her bed and flicked on her TV.  

She flipped idly from channel to channel, making a face at every station having an emergency warning running at the bottom of the screen or a “breaking news” bulletin flashing in the corner.    _God, who cares about the shitty weather outside? They’re such pussies_ , Santana thought as she kept changing stations. Nothing particularly interesting seemed to be on, anyway, so she settled on watching a recorded episode of _Pretty Little Liars_.

Noticing the dim light from her phone flash from her night stand, she reached for her cell and frowned at the display screen.

_1 Missed Voicemail from Q_

“ _You have one missed message. First new message_ ,” chirped the automated messaging system on her phone. Santana cringed the second it started playing; it was nothing but a jumble of wind noise and something that almost sounded like groaning or growling.

_The fuck? She must have pocket dialed me or something_. Santana shrugged and tossed her phone next to her. She settled back against her headboard and continued to watch television.

Halfway through the episode, a crash from outside roused Santana’s attention from the show. She stood up, ran to her bedroom window and peered onto the road, gasping out loud as her eyes adjusted to the dark and made out that a car had driven up onto her lawn and crashed into an oak tree.

A man stumbled out of the driver’s seat, his body inflicted with obvious trauma. Santana covered her mouth with her hands as the man collapsed face first into the snow and lay motionless.

_Holy fuck_

Santana ran down the stairs, threw on her closest pair of boots, and jogged over to the injured driver. She bent down beside him and leaned into his face; his ragged breathing suddenly stopped and Santana noticed that the snow beneath him was stained crimson with blood. She gently turned the man onto his back and recoiled in horror at the sickeningly deep gash in his forehead.

Standing up, Santana fought the urge to flee back inside and call the police. She trudged over to the crashed car and pulled the keys from the ignition. She shut the car door and peered down her street. Four people were slowly walking in her direction.

“Hey! Over here! Give me a hand!” shouted Santana as she jumped up, waving her arms.

The four people maintained their slow pace towards her. Squinting, Santana attempted to make them out; she noticed one was dragging his leg with every step.

“Fuck, are you okay?” she called.  She carefully jogged towards them. “Should I call an ambulance for you too?”

As she drew closer, she realized that the limping man’s right arm was broken, his elbow protruding clear from his flesh.  His jaw was completely unhinged and smacked against his neck with each stride.

Santana swore out loud and bolted to her porch, not even bothering to look at the others in the pack. She ran inside, slamming the door furiously behind her. She tore around her house, locking doors and turning off lights in the hopes those things ( _fucking freaks_ , she thought) didn’t follow behind.  On the kitchen counter, a knife block glinted enticingly against the moonlight. Santana grabbed the block and carefully climbed the stairs towards her bedroom.

She dropped the knives on the carpet and turned to lock her bedroom door. The desk chair in the corner of her room was dragged and thrust under the door knob, the dresser was pushed in front of the door, blocking any _thing_ from entering.  Or leaving.

The sickeningly feeling of curiosity got the best of her, so Santana crept to look outside the window and winced as she observed those _freaks_ flock around the driver, his limbs torn off and strewn on the Lopez’s lawn. 

“What the fuck is going on?” she whined out loud. “This is like some _Dawn of the Dead_ shit.”

She nervously tugged at her hair and watched the zombies rip the last tears of flesh from their victim. The leader, in one swift move, tore off the head of the driver as blood sprayed the snow. He slowly lumbered off her lawn and down her street, swinging the head from his hand as the other zombies followed suit.

Santana backed away from her window and sat on her bed, stunned by what she had witnessed. She grabbed her phone and scrolled through her contact list, deciding on what to do. Her fingers stopped over the name _Cedes_ and she pressed call.

The phone rang twice before going straight to Mercedes’ voicemail. With shaking hands, she ended the call.

_It’s probably because she’s driving._   

She slid her finger up to _< 3 Brittany <3_ before she remembered Britt has lost her phone the previous day.

“Shit!” Santana could feel panic clawing at her chest and knew she needed to remain calm for her own sake. Taking a deep breath, she began to alphabetically go through her contact list. She skipped over _Dwarf_ and continued scrolling.

Her finger hovered over _Trouty Mouth_. She held her breath as the phone rang once before clicking over to a busy signal. Santana let out a frustrated groan and tossed her phone on the bed, cradling her forehead in her hands as she squeezed her eyes shut.

_What is fuck happening?_

Feeling defeated, she once again picked up her phone and searched through her contacts until the bar landed on _Dwarf_. She dialed and held her breath, waiting for an answer. After a promising five rings, the phone immediately cut to voicemail.

Santana stood up from her bed and walked over to the window. Her road was deserted except for the odd car that passed along the opposing street. She turned back and stared at her barricaded room.

_I need to get the hell out of here_ , she thought, staring at the chair wedged under the handle. She moved to her closet, throwing clothes and shoes out of her path. Santana pulled a shoebox from the bottom of the floor. She grabbed her backpack and kissed the box tenderly before she placed it in the bottom of her bag.

As she dug through a pile of clothes and notes from old classes, the glinting of the buckles on Santana’s six inch stilettos grabbed her attention, distracting her from packing. Bending down, she picked up the shoe and walked over to the knife set. She placed the shoe on her dresser and brought the knife down hard at the heel which severed the shoe in two. Santana ran back to the floor and collected all of her high heels; a large thud sounded through her enclosed room as they hit the wood. She cut off the stiletto points and tossed them in her backpack.

_Gotta kill shit in style._

Looking around her room, Santana dove under her bed and retrieved two large bottles of tequila, stashed away from her parents. _I’ll make good use of these._.

From her dresser, she took out her warmest and bulkiest sweaters, wrapped up the kitchen knives, and shoved them in the bag. She pulled the zippers shut and dropped the knapsack onto her bed. Santana sat down beside it, peering around her room for anything else of value.

Propped up in the corner of her bedroom was her old, aluminum softball bat. She got up to retrieve it, taking a test swing against her lamp sitting on her dresser. The glass made a satisfying shattering sound that caused a small smile to curl on Santana’s lips.  It felt nice to relieve some of this pent up stress; there _were_ zombies right outside. 

The opening notes of _You Know I’m No Good_ filled Santana’s room, causing her chest to slightly constrict with anxiety and anticipation.  She dove onto her bed, grabbed her phone and answered the call.

“Hello?” she breathed.

“Santana! I’m so glad to hear you’re alright! It’s Rachel. Rachel Berry,” exclaimed an excited voice from the other end.

A slight frown developed on Santana’s face.

“I got that, smurf. What the _hell_ is going on?” she yelled frantically into the receiver.

“I-I don’t know. One minute I’m enjoying coffee with Sam and Kurt and the next we’re being chased by the _living dead_ ,” she whispered.

“Seriously, Berry? Living Dead? You know those are fucking zombies,” growled Santana. “A car crashed onto my lawn about an hour ago. I thought the driver just hit an ice patch and swerved out of control. _Turns out_ he was driving away from a swarm of zombies trying to turn him into dinner. I went out to check and see if he was okay and nearly got my ass bit off.”

“Kurt, Sam and I thought we were goners, too, but luckily Sebastian saved us so w-”

Santana turned up her nose, her mouth agape. “Sebastian? _Warbler_ Sebastian? He _saved_ you?” she scoffed in disbelief.

“Yes. He’s driving us right now, actually, to Kurt’s house. We can come pick you up. Please Santana, you’ll be safe with us,” pleaded Rachel.

“Nuh uh, no way. I am not trusting my life with that fucking twink.” 

Santana shook her head, her grip on the softball bat tightening. She heard Rachel sigh into the receiver, followed by fumbling on her end.

“Santana?” said a deep male voice.

“Sam? Sam. I’m not going with Sebastian, I’d rather be torn apart.”

“Look, I know you don’t trust him but he saved us. We would be as dead as everyone else at the Lima Bean if it wasn’t for him. Where are you right now?”

“I’ve barricaded myself in my bedroom. I was packing a bag hoping to escape with someone from McKinley, not the head bitch at Dalton.”

“We need you, Santana. You don’t tolerate any crap, which is, like, perfect in the middle of a zombie apocalypse or whatever. Come on, who else are you gonna go with?” said Sam, calmly.

With a sigh of defeat, Santana mumbled, “I live off of Willoughby Avenue. Lima Heights Adjacent.”

She heard muffled sounds from the other end of the phone call, as if Sam placed Rachel’s phone to his chest.

“Sebastian,” she heard him say faintly. “We need to make a quick detour.”


	3. Sam and Kurt

Sam handed the phone to Rachel, who had begun to recount their ordeal to the less-than-enthused Santana. He placed his head against the window and stared at the houses whizzing by. Buildings still had lights turned on, houses still had families eating dinner around the dining room table, and children were still playing in the snow outside. 

The thought that people were this unperturbed by an impending zombie apocalypse was a little unsettling to Sam. He possessed enough pop cultural knowledge regarding zombies to last a lifetime, so he knew exactly what was in store. Were people unaware of their fate or did they just not care?  

Honestly, Sam was terrified.  He rung his hands together, on edge from Rachel’s incessant chattering and Sebastian’s reckless driving.  He squeezed his eyes shut, taking a few calming breaths, but could only see himself running through the parking lot away from zombies, watching from the BMW as Kurt fell in front of them. 

_Kurt_. Sam repeated the name in his head and looked at his boyfriend in the car’s side mirror. Kurt was blankly staring out the window, his eyes transfixed on nothing.  He winced, wishing there was _anything_ he could do to make him feel safe, to protect him from all of this. 

The two boys hadn’t been dating for a long time - three weeks at the maximum - but Sam always believed there was something special between him and the other boy.  From the moment he shook hands with the brunet outside his locker last year, Sam sensed a deeper connection - something intangible at that time that became so _real_ when Kurt’s previous relationship soured.  Sam would date, using the distraction of someone else to suppress his lingering feelings for Kurt. Sam had loved Quinn and Mercedes but the sensations he felt through his body when they would caress his skin or kiss his lips was nothing compared to the spark from a simple finger brushing with Kurt.  He felt fortunate that _finally_ he would be able to experience everything he had always dreamed of with the other boy, but was just so _angry_ by the recent cruel twist of fate. Sam knew that he wanted to preserve this feeling, this relationship, as long as possible. 

He was brought back to reality when he heard Sebastian calling his name. 

“Hey Lady Lips, we’re on Willoughby. Where are we picking up the rug muncher?” 

Sebastian raised his eyebrows tauntingly as he stared at Sam in the rear view mirror. Simultaneously, Sam glared, Kurt scoffed, and Rachel huffed, all disgusted. 

“She said a car crashed into her tree, Sebastian. It won’t be difficult to find,” snapped Rachel, crossing her arms. 

Sam could see Sebastian smirk to himself as he sped down the road. He took a hard left into a driveway and slammed on the breaks, lodging Sam forward in his seat. The four could see a car wedged into a tall oak tree with patches of blood staining the snow below. 

Cautiously, Sam exited the car and headed onto the lawn, searching for signs of Santana. From above, he heard a window sliding open accompanied by a whistle. 

“Up here, Sam!” Santana called. She waved her hand and smiled, looking relieved. Sam grinned back at her, also relieved to see another familiar face. She threw down her backpack and a softball bat in his waiting arms. 

  “God, this weighs a friggin’ ton,” he groaned, stumbling back a bit as he tried to regain his balance. “What the hell is in here?” He motioned for Sebastian to pop the trunk and placed her items inside, noticing a lacrosse stick tucked in the back. _Ugh he plays lacrosse? Figures._. He slammed the trunk and made his way to the house. 

“It’s shit we’ll need to survive,” Santana called. “Now, help me figure out how to get the hell out of here, I’m locked in my room.” 

Tentatively, she stuck her foot out onto the eavestrough, gripping the window pane firmly. Sam gasped as her foot slid an inch as it made contact with a patch of ice. 

“Stop! Is there a ladder or something like that that you could climb? You’ll slip and break your leg if you try to shimmy down the drainpipe,” he asked, clutching his hands into tense fists. 

“There’s one in the tool shed ‘round back. You’re gonna need someone to help you drag it.” 

Sighing, Sam turned and headed back to the BMW, wishing that they could just be on their way already to Kurt’s house; being outside, in the cold and dark, with zombies lumbering around was really not helping to calm his nerves. He gestured to Sebastian, indicating him to roll down the window.  “Okay, so there’s a ladder in the tool shed but I need someone to come help me,” said Sam, leaning into the car door. 

Rachel weakly smiled, her unwillingness obviously displayed. Kurt subconsciously (or quite possibly consciously -Sam knew his boyfriend all too well) rubbed his knee, indicating his injury from the Lima Bean. 

Sebastian scrunched up his face in a slow smile. “Looks like it’s you and me, killer.” He slid out of the driver’s seat and stood up, turning to Kurt. “Princess, you think you could handle driving this? Stay here and be ready to book it in case we run into some shit.” 

Kurt mumbled under his breath, and shifted over into the driver’s seat, slamming the door.   

“Feisty, that one,” winked Sebastian at Sam. The two boys pushed through the gate into Santana’s backyard, picking their way carefully to the toolshed. They noticed that the ladder was suspended from the ceiling, a couple feet in the air.   Sam watched Sebastian extend his fingers and jump in the hopes of latching onto the ladder. Sebastian came down with a _thud_ and furrowed his brow. 

“I, uh, think I could reach it but you’ll need to give me a boost,” suggested Sam. “If I climb onto the workbench and you hold my legs, I can pass it to you.” 

Sebastian shrugged and moved next to the bench. Sam climbed on top and stretched his arms above, feeling Sebastian’s tight grip around his calves. He pulled the ladder off its supportive hooks and gently eased it towards the shed floor. The weight of the ladder was unexpected, however, and caused Sam to wobble backwards, gasping out loud.  

“Whoa, easy there,” Sebastian placed his hand against Sam’s back, stabilizing him. 

“Thanks,” Sam mumbled as he jumped off the table to pick up one end of the ladder. With Sebastian grabbing the other side, the boys carefully carried the ladder around the front of the house. 

Sam observed Sebastian, his eyes scanned the length of his body. Sam didn’t hate Sebastian, really. Strongly disliked at times but never truly hated. Without Sebastian, Kurt never would have become his boyfriend, the one person who knew how to stop his heart and make him fall to pieces with one look. Without Sebastian, Kurt never would have left Blaine to come home crying in Sam’s shoulder for hours on end. Without Sebastian, Sam never would have been able to wipe the tears clear from Kurt’s face, soothingly hugging his shoulder and whispering that everything would be okay only to lean in and tenderly place a kiss upon his lips. Without Sebastian, Kurt never would have kissed back. 

Sam was shaken from his thoughts when Sebastian dropped the ladder in the snow outside of Santana’s window. He tended the ladder to its full two story capacity and leaned it against the windowsill, watching as she hesitantly threw her leg backwards and eased onto the first rung. Slowly, she climbed down as Sam and Sebastian stabilized the sides. When she reached the third last rung, Santana triumphantly jumped into the snow, flashing Sam a dazzling grin and drawing him into a fierce hug. 

  “Thanks, guppy.”  Her eyes glinted with disdain when she noticed Sebastian awkwardly standing next to her. “Think it’s too totaled to drive?” Santana asked, nodding her head in the direction of the crashed car. 

“Yeah, I wouldn’t bother. Finn left his truck at Kurt’s house before him and his parents went out of town so we can drive it if we have to,” replied Sam. 

Sam watched the girl run to the car, hopping in the passenger seat. He rolled his eyes fondly when he witnessed Santana lean in to hug Kurt, avoiding Rachel’s outstretched arms. Sam climbed into the back seat next to Rachel and waited for Sebastian, who was nowhere to be found. 

“Wait guys, where’s Sebastian?” Sam asked, craning his neck from the backseat. 

Kurt and Santana giggled as they, in unison, sneered, “Who cares?”

Sam felt relief wash over him when Sebastian returned to the car, a glinting chainsaw in hand. 

 “You have got to be kidding me,” scoffed Kurt, gazing at the machinery.   

“I saw it getting the ladder. How fucking badass would it be to shred a zombie in half with this thing?” Sebastian exclaimed, holding the chainsaw proudly. 

  “What about when the gas runs out?” questioned Rachel, wrinkling her nose. 

“Well, we’ll just save this for special occasions, won’t we?” Sebastian coyly smiled at the group. “What do you say?” 

  Rachel timidly replied, “Let’s go kill some zombies.”

***

After a lot of bitching and complaining from Sebastian, Kurt drove the BMW back to his house. He really just wanted to be able to drive; he felt being on the road freeing and liberating, and in a time like this, Kurt needed some comfort to keep himself sane.  He wheeled into his driveway and shut off the ignition.  The five made their way out of the car, took out their bags, and headed to the front door. 

“How do we know your house is safe, Kurt?” asked Rachel, nervously shifting her gaze around the property.  

“We should check around the outside of the house to see if anyone’s broken in or something. If it seems fine, we can go in.” Sam responded, clapping her arm gently. 

Kurt knocked his shoulder against Sam’s and flashed him a loving smile. He was just so _proud_ of his boyfriend for knowing what to do and just keeping calm while every one else panicked. Kurt was grateful that someone like Sam was around to lead them forward. 

The group split up and began to work their way around Kurt’s house, their eyes observing every crevasse of the brickwork and every crack in the window panels. Kurt felt relief wash over him when he noticed that the snow in the back yard remained untouched with no footprints in sight.  When the coast seemed clear, they assembled on the front porch and waited for Sam to unlock the door, stepping into Kurt’s foyer and peeling off their boots and coats. 

“First things first: we should eat dinner. It’s after 11 p.m. and I am famished,” Kurt announced. He strode to the kitchen and flicked on the light switch, setting out plates and glasses and cutlery onto the kitchen table. Sam and Rachel began to rifle through the fridge and cupboards, pulling out various food items for them to consume. Santana and Sebastian stood back, observing. 

Kurt, feeling like he needed to be a good host despite the circumstances, seated the group around the table and reheated leftover lasagna. For Rachel, he whipped up a quick stirfry from some cold rice and vegetables. 

They sat around the table in silence, only disturbed by the clinking of glass on the table and scraping of forks against plates. It wasn’t until Santana decided to speak up that they engaged in conversation. 

“Am I the first one to actually ask this? What the fuck is going on? Seriously,” she asked, her mouth full of half-chewed food.  

Kurt turned to look at Sam, who swallowed a gulp of of milk before speaking, slowly. 

“Honestly? It seems like zombies, which I know is dumb, like you said Rachel,” he said, turning to look at the girl, “but seriously, I can’t think of anything else that this could be. Some weird kinda virus? I don’t know, guys. In the event they _are_ zombies or the living dead or whatever you wanna call them, we just need to, like, remain calm. We should stay here for as long as we can, though. I mean, we still have power and food and stuff for now.” He stared gravely at the group before continuing. “Just, try to remember, you can’t let any of them scratch you or bite you because you will turn into a zombie too, provided they _are_ actually zombies. Which we don’t know,” he stumbled. 

Kurt rubbed his palm over the back of Sam’s hand, soothingly. He didn’t know how Sam became the leader of their ragtag group of misfits in the middle of a zombie apocalypse, but he was glad it was someone sensible. He felt safe knowing Sam was in control. 

“Look, I appreciate you trying to rally us, Braveheart, but sitting here discussing this isn’t helping. We should be out there slaughtering,” Sebastian scoffed as he slammed down his glass. “Don’t you guys think?” He looked to each person seated around the table, but scowled when no one held his gaze. “Fuck you, you bunch of pussies.” 

“It would be best if we stayed in my house, at least for tonight,” suggested Kurt, cooly. “Then, in the morning, if a murderous rampage still strikes you, feel free to engage.” 

Sebastian rolled his eyes and settled back into the chair. “Fine.” 

“Now, it’s practically midnight and I don’t think any of you would object to getting some sleep. This day has been...something, to say the least,” Kurt stood up, sliding his chair into the table. “Let’s collect some things that can be used as weaponry in the event we need them. Which, hopefully, we won’t.” 

He took a frying pan from a cupboard and handed it to Rachel, who cradled it gently in her arms.  Sebastian and Sam headed upstairs, rummaging through the bedrooms and bathroom for anything they could find. Kurt and Santana raided the kitchen and living room, taking fire pokers, knives, and fire extinguishers.  The three joined the boys upstairs and dumped the objects into Sam and Kurt’s rooms.  

“No one should stay alone tonight,” said Sam, pointing to the bedrooms. “Some of us can stay in my room, the other half in Kurt’s.”  

“Kurt, you and Sam should stay together for the night. Santana, Sebastian, and I can stay in Sam’s room,” Rachel smiled at the boys, running her fingers down Kurt’s arm. Santana’s mouth dropped open in protest but with a sharp look from Rachel, she conceded.   

“Fine,” Santana mumbled, heading into the guest room with Sebastian trailing on her heels.   

“I wouldn’t want either of your dicks stabbing me in the morning anyway. Later, losers,” he called, disgusted. 

Rachel turned to Sam and Kurt, crinkling her nose. “Remind me again how we got tangled up with him?”   Kurt sighed and pulled her into a one-armed hug, steering her into his room. 

“Here,” he said as he pulled out his dresser drawer. “These pajama sets will fit you and Santana. I don’t care what Sebastian wears, that’s his problem. Try to catch some sleep, okay?”

Kurt watched as she smiled softly before walking to Sam’s room, locking the door behind. He plopped down on his bed, running his hands through his hair. Kurt wanted to shower so badly -he was still covered in dirt, blood and God knows what else- but he just couldn’t. He briefly closed his eyes and immediately flashed to this evening, watching people as they were ripped into shreds before his eyes and hearing the snarling of that zombie as it came at him. Kurt was beginning to feel very overwhelmed and _very_ frightened.   

“You okay?” Sam took a seat behind Kurt and wrapped his arms around his waist, drawing Kurt into his lap. 

Sighing, Kurt leaned his head back on Sam’s shoulder. “Of course not. I don’t know what’s happening or what we’re to do. I am worried sick about my dad and Finn and Carole but I am so scared to call them for fear they...” he trailed off. Sam hugged him, burying his face in Kurt’s neck. 

  “Me too,” he murmured. “It’s why I haven’t called my folks back in Kentucky. I’d rather not know what’s happening.” He paused. “I’m just - I’m really glad you’re okay. I was so scared but I knew you would be badass enough to handle yourself,” he finished with a small laugh. 

Kurt turned so he was facing his boyfriend. He placed a light kiss against his cheek as he clasped his arms around Sam’s neck. “I’m glad _you’re_ safe. I can’t imagine not having someone here with me.” He leaned back and pressed his lips fully against Sam’s, running his fingertips down the nape of the other boy’s neck.  Sam leaned back against the headboard, holding Kurt firmly to his chest. 

Despite living under the same roof, the two boys hardly received alone time with Burt maintaining a strict open-door policy in their household.  Kurt knew that Sam had only ever kissed one other boy back in Tennessee, so he vowed to take things slow, making sure Sam was comfortable in their budding relationship. Kissing was still new to them and often times resulted in fumbling lips and clashing teeth.  They were slowly overcoming their learning curve with every encounter building their confidence. Still, he didn’t want to pressure Sam into anything the other boy wasn’t ready for.  

Kurt gently pressed Sam back onto the bed against the headboard, his left hand rubbing Sam’s biceps. He shuddered slightly as Sam slid his rough hands under his sweater, gasping against his lips when Sam fumbled the buttons open. Sam pushed the sweater off of Kurt’s shoulders and tossed it to the floor. 

Sam moved his hands through Kurt’s hair, pulling gently as he sucked on Kurt’s lower lip into his mouth. Kurt moaned as Sam smoothly shifted him onto his back, his hands running over Kurt’s chest. Their groins were in perfect alignment and Kurt could feel the length of Sam’s erection press against his thigh. Despite himself, he canted his hips forward, relishing in the friction. 

A part of Kurt’s brain knew that things were going to progress and that they should cool off, but this was just so comforting. Being physically close to someone at this time grounded him and made him feel secure. 

This is why when Sam dragged his hand from Kurt’s chest, down his abdomen, and towards the waistband of his jeans, he didn’t stop him. Sam slowly undid the button on Kurt’s jeans as he mouth down his neck, over his collarbones, and only stopping when his lips reached the elastic waistband from Kurt’s underwear. 

With trembling hands, Sam pulled down the zipper on Kurt’s jeans, his cock bouncing free in his boxer-briefs.  Kurt threw back his head and scrunched his eyes shut as Sam kissed the length of his cock, his hands firmly gripping Kurt’s waist to stabilize the boy as he lightly swept his tongue against the fabric.   

“Sam,” Kurt said, hoarsely, “do you think we should do this?”  

Kurt really didn’t want to stop, and if Sam’s actions were indicative of his mood, neither did he. Still, Kurt figured that it was getting late and he didn’t want his hormones to cloud his mind and have the two jump further than anticipated. 

Sam lightly chuckled and moved up Kurt’s body, resting his forehead against his. With a long, sweet kiss, he sighed and laid down onto his side, dragging Kurt against the length of his body.   

“You’re probably right,” he said, nuzzling the back of Kurt’s hair. “Besides, we’ve got a long day ahead of us.”


	4. Rachel

As she shut the door, Rachel closed her eyes and leaned her head back, thumping it against the wood. The severity of the situation began to weigh heavily in her mind. 

_Get a grip, you are Rachel Berry. You’ve performed solos in front of thousands of people, you’ve spoken to Patti Lupone, and you’ve played on the football team. You can do this. You’re a star._

Rachel opened her eyes and surveyed the room. Sebastian was shirtless and sprawled across Sam’s bed, his arm behind his head. Santana was cross legged on the carpet, her phone in hand. Rachel watched her dial a number then immediately throw the device onto the carpet in anger. Rachel smiled empathetically at the girl. 

“Here,” Rachel said, softly, and handed Santana the two sets of pajamas. “Do you want the satin or flannel ones?” 

“I don’t care,” sneered Santana, grabbing the blue satin two-piece. She picked up her phone and turned to Sebastian.  “Throw me the USB cable on the nightstand, will ya? I needs to charge my phone."

Sebastian, without looking at her, reached for the cable and tossed it in her general direction. Rachel heard Santana mumble under her breath as she crawled over to the wall where the USB adapter was located. 

Rachel sat tentatively on the end of the bed, next to Sebastian’s stockinged feet. She picked up a remote from the floor and flicked on the television.   

“...Once again, Channel 4 is reporting breaking news that there are gangs of people savagely murdering citizens throughout Ohio. Witnesses have stated that the gangs were seen brutally attacking innocent bystanders. The following footage was captured by a viewer and sent into the station. Warning: The video contains graphic content." 

Rachel watched as the picture switched from tired and harrowed newscasters, to video footage captured from a cell phone. It appeared as though the videographer was outside the North Hills Mall when a gang of people - _zombies_ , Rachel thought - swarmed a crowd of bystanders waiting on a bus stop. The news report returned to the anchorman.

“Reports of similar assaults have been reported in Kentucky, Indiana and isolated incidents in North Carolina. Officials are asking for citizens to remain calm and stay indoors until further notice. Once again, officials are asking citizens to remain in their homes until we receive confirmation. For those of you just joining us-”

“Turn off the TV,” commanded Santana, her face twisted with indiscernible emotion.  

“Sorry,” Rachel replied, shutting off the television. “I just wanted to hear what was happening.” 

“Well, I can tell you what’s happening, hobbit. America is under a fucking zombie attack. You don’t have to watch the news to know that!” Santana’s voice became increasingly hysterical. “We are going to be stuck in this stupid house and spend the rest of our days waiting for some zombie to eat our faces off.”   

Rachel opened her mouth to respond when Sebastian cut her off.   

“Seriously, can you two shut up? You’re giving me a migraine.” 

“Fine,” snapped Santana, “I’m tired anyway”. She stood up and slipped her sweater over her head, dropping it to the floor and picking up the pajama top. 

Rachel blushed at the girl's exposed skin and turned on her heels. “I’m going to change in the bathroom.” 

She opened the door and crept into the dark hallway. Instead of turning into the bathroom, she stepped into the room across the hall. Finn’s bedroom was dark save for the soft glow of his alarm clock. She switched on his bedside lamp and looked around the room. It was a bit of a mess, which was to be expected knowing Finn. Rachel gingerly ran her hand along a picture frame on the table which displayed a candid photograph of the couple from the summer.   

Rachel threw back her head in the hopes of stopping her welling tears from spilling and streaking her face. Rachel knew Finn had left his phone in Lima while he and his parents traveled to Pennsylvania to explore campuses. Throughout this whole ordeal, there were multiple times she had prevented herself from asking Kurt for his father or step-mother’s cell phone number. Rachel didn’t want to seem insensitive or that her only intentions were to ask about Finn. 

She wasn't worried about her fathers, though. The Berry men were visiting relatives in Columbus for the night and were expected to return early the next morning. Rachel took comfort in the fact that the news had reported that people should remain in their houses, hoping her fathers heeded the warning. 

Rachel picked up the picture frame and kissed it gently. She changed into the pajamas and walked back to Sam’s room. The sides of her mouth dipped as she entered the room, noticing that the two had not waited for her return before they shut off the lights. Rachel climbed into Sam’s cramped queen size bed next to Santana and felt the other girl pull away from her body. Sighing, Rachel closed her eyes and hoped she would wake up from the nightmare. 

Sunlight shone through the windows early the next morning. Rachel opened her sleepy eyes and yawned. She smiled when she noticed that, in her sleep, Santana had wrapped her arm around Rachel’s waist. The warmth against her body was comforting. Rachel pulled away and leaned over the side of the bed, fumbling for her phone to check the time. 

Her eyes widened when her screen displayed the message _1 Missed Voicemail from Home._

Rachel dialed her voicemail, her hands trembling.   

_“Rachel, honey, it’s your dad. Your father and I are fine, we returned home late last night. Please call us, Rachel, we’re worried sick. Your dad and I are staying at home, so if you hear this please come here. We love you very much.”_

The room shook as Rachel jumped out of bed and ran towards her clothes. She quickly threw her old outfit over her head and shook Santana gently. 

“Santana! Wake up! We have to go,” she hissed. 

Santana groaned and opened her eyes. “What are you talking about?” she moaned, her voice heavy with slumber. 

“My dads called me last night and left me a voicemail, they're waiting for me. We need to go. Please.” 

Santana huffed and rolled over, her back turned to Rachel.

“Sebastian,” Rachel said in a louder voice, “my dads are alive and safe in my home. _Please_ come with me, I’m too nervous to go alone.” 

Sebastian yawned and rubbed his eyes. “If I go with you, will you promise to just tone it down? I feel like taking that chainsaw to your head over any zombie.” 

Rachel sighed. “Agreed”. She darted out of the room and pounded on Kurt’s door. A heavy lidded Sam answered, scratching the back of his head.  

“Is everything ‘kay, Rach?”

“We must go to my house immediately. My dads are home and they called me last night asking me to see them. Sebastian agreed to take me but I want everyone to come,” pleaded Rachel, grabbing Sam’s upper arm. 

Kurt stumbled to the door and furrowed his brow, concern shrouding his face. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? Maybe you should call first and see if they’re still there?”

Rachel let out a frustrated sigh and dialed her number. Her face lit up after two rings. “It’s busy!” she exclaimed. “They’re home”. She turned to the boys. “Come on, let’s go.” 

Kurt eyed Sam, his face clearly expressing his worry. He bit his lip and turned to Rachel. “Sam and I will stay here because someone needs to man down the house. You’ll have Santana and Sebastian with you, who are undeniably your fiercest weapons. Call me or Sam when you meet up with your parents and decide what to do”. He pulled Rachel into a hug and kissed the top of her hair. “Be safe. I love you."

“I love you too, Kurt.” Rachel squeezed him tight and smiled at Sam behind Kurt’s shoulder. She headed into Sam’s room to collect the other two. The three kids grabbed their weapons and headed to the BMW. Sam and Kurt smiled and waved from the front door as Sebastian pulled out of the driveway and sped towards Rachel’s. 

The early morning sun reflected off the snow, blinding Rachel and making her squint as she stared out the window. The streets of Lima that were normally filled with people bustling and cars driving were eerily empty. Rachel looked in the side mirror and noticed that they were the only ones on the road, the road ahead of them scattered with the bodies of the dead. She flinched as Sebastian drove over a corpse, the car’s suspension bouncing with the sudden impact. She could see piles of bodies laying motionless on lawns, frozen from the temperature. 

Sebastian, following Rachel’s directions, pulled into her driveway. After grasping her frying pan, she flung open the car door and ran up her driveway. The front door was unlocked, a fact that caused Sebastian and Santana to turn to look at each other with caution.

“Dads! Where are you? It’s Rachel!” she called, her voice carrying and echoing in the large foyer. She peeked her head into the living and dining room, her eyes scanning every corner. Rachel bounded up the stairs in search of her fathers.

***

Sebastian mindlessly wandered through the Berry’s kitchen, his lacrosse stick hitting cupboards. He turned to Santana, who was spinning her softball bat in her hands. Sebastian sauntered down a hallway attached the the kitchen which presumably led to the basement, smirking at Santana’s effort to ignore his presence. He froze when he noticed that the back door leading to the side of the house was ripped open, the screen shredded. A phone hung on the wall had fallen off of the receiver and swayed like a pendulum. Leading from the phone, down the wall, and onto the floor was a repulsive concoction of blood, dirt, and other unidentified fluids. It seeped down the stairs leading into the basement.

 _Shit, we never checked the property_. 

He slowly backed away from the hall, his grip on the lacrosse stick tightening. 

“Santana,” he hissed. 

The girl turned to him, her face twisted with contempt. “What could you possibly want?” she sneered.   

Sebastian motioned for her to be silent and waved her over. Santana peeked her head around the corner and recoiled in horror.   

With her eyes wide, she turned to Sebastian and whispered, “Rachel.”

***

Rachel frantically darted in every room down the long hallway.   “Dads, where are you?” she called, her voice trembling. She stopped at the last room on the left: her bedroom.

As she pushed open the door, it’s creaking filled the hall. Rachel gingerly stepped on the carpet and sighed as she gazed at the posters of musicals on the wall and the photographs of her, Kurt, and Finn decorating the desk. She walked over to a collapsible music stand that glinted in the corner of her room. She dropped the frying pan in her hand and smiled as she fingered through the sheet music on the stand. The first pieces of music contained the notes and lyrics to “A New Life” from _Jekyll and Hyde_. Rachel had planned on singing the song for her NYADA audition, hoping the judges would appreciate the symbolism. Tears pricked the back of her eyes as she thought about the possibility of auditioning, wondering if NYADA still existed. 

Rachel snapped back to reality when she heard faint rustling coming from inside her bathroom. She walked over, pushed open the door, and froze in fear. A tall, disfigured man was lumbering in the room, trapped in the corner of the shower. 

She gasped as the zombie turned around, startled by the door. His face was entirely slashed, the bones of his trachea exposed. He took a step towards Rachel and she stumbled backwards. She reached behind and grabbed the frying pan, swinging it towards her attacker. He grabbed at the weapon, causing Rachel to drop it in fear of being scratched. He continued stalking over to her, backing her into a corner.   

 _Come on Rachel, you have to kill him. I know you’re scared but you have to do this. Don’t be frightened, you’re a star_. 

“I’m a star,” whispered Rachel as she frantically reached for the music stand. The pieces of music gently drifted and scattered as she thrust the stand straight out. She drove the object directly through the chest cavity of the zombie, impaling him. He gasped and sputtered as he fell backwards, driving the stand deeper in his chest.   

Rachel, stiff in shock, stared at the zombie who laid dead on her floor, blood seeping and soaking through her carpet. The panic and adrenaline caught up to her and Rachel let out a blood curdling scream. She broke into hysterics and collapsed onto the floor, her face in her hands.   

Sebastian and Santana bolted up the stairs and charged into Rachel’s room, weapons poised. Santana clasped a hand to her mouth when she noticed Rachel curled up sobbing, the dead zombie mere inches away. Sebastian hauled Rachel to her feet and ushered her out the door. 

It took both Santana and Sebastian to stabilize the girl as they hurried down the stairs and towards the car. Rachel, unaware of what was happening, mechanically followed the other two’s lead. She got into the backseat, her cries unwavering. Santana sat next to her, cradling Rachel in her arms. Sebastian started the car and headed back towards Kurt’s.   

“My d-dads,” choked Rachel, her chest heaving as she buried her face in the crook of Santana’s neck.   

“Shh, it’ll be okay,” soothed Santana as she placed her cheek against the top of Rachel’s hair. “It’ll be okay.”


	5. Sebastian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a bit longer than expected, the real world is ridic.

Sebastian drove. He didn’t know how to get back to Kurt’s, he didn’t even know how fast he was traveling. The only thing for certain was the crumpled and shriveled form of Rachel huddled into the crook of Santana’s shoulder, tears streaming from her eyes and sobs ripping from her throat. He gripped the steering wheel with bloodless knuckles, flicking his gaze to the back seat in the rearview mirror. The soft click of Santana’s tongue mixed with Rachel’s moans echoed and filled the body of the car. 

As he took a sharp left, Sebastian sighed and relaxed his hands against the wheel. Being stuck with the Nude Erection losers was his own personal hell, zombies or not. He rubbed his brow and exhaled sharply as Rachel sniffed from the back; exaggerated, of course because he would expect nothing less from Barbra. 

He continued driving forward, not bothering to ask for directions back to Hummel’s house; he’ll figure this shit out eventually, Lima _is_ a sickeningly small town. Sebastian sneered to himself thinking that he was fucking trapped in Lima, of all places, in a zombie apocalypse. He belonged in Westerville, in his expansive, austere house, not in some snow covered side street with two bitches sobbing in the backseat of his BMW. 

( _If that chick lets one droplet of snot fall from her anteater sized nose onto my leather upholstery, I’ll punch a rhinoplasty for her._ ) 

Sebastian cringed, frowning as he once again gazed back at her practically convulsing with strangled cries. He was being a bit harsh, he knew. The girl probably just slaughtered her own father, something that no one deserves, not even a stupid loser from McKinley. 

He sympathised with Rachel. He knew his mother was dead too, her body dismembered and strewn throughout the Lima Bean parking lot. She had gone earlier in the day for coffee, a tradition the Smythe family carried out every Friday. When she hadn’t returned for hours, Sebastian grew impatient and drove over to the coffee shop himself. It wasn’t until he pulled up to the parking lot he knew, just knew she was dead. 

Sebastian was scared; fucking terrified, even. His mother was _dead_. All he had was his mother and she was gone. Sebastian knew he couldn’t show his fear, that’s not what Smythe’s do. Besides, someone needs to not be a pussy in this group, especially considering he was with Lima losers. _Fucking idiots_. 

The scenery began to grow more and more familiar familiar with every mile until Sebastian turned down a street which adjoined onto Kurt’s. 

“It’s 415.” Santana mumbled the house number from the back, petting Rachel’s hair behind her ears. 

Sebastian grunted in acknowledgement and swiftly pulled into the driveway. Feeling a bit guilty, he shut off the ignition and stood up onto the pavement, opening the back door for Rachel. She sniffled and looked at Sebastian with large watery eyes, her cheeks slick and iridescent with tears and dark red circles ringing her eyelids. 

“Thanks,” she breathed, catching her footing and grasping Santana’s arm like a vice grip. The girls made their way to the front door, Santana pummeling and kicking the glass screen door with her boots. 

“Open the fucking door, Hummel. Quit banging your boyfriend for one second,” she screamed. 

Sebastian scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Way to wake up the neighbourhood, JLo. If i get torn to pieces right now, this will all be your fault.” 

Santana turned to scowl at him, holding Rachel in her arms. “Don’t make me come over there and-” 

“What happened?” Kurt asked, opening the door, Sam close behind. “Where are your dads, Rachel?” 

Rachel burst through the door frame and latched onto Kurt’s shoulder, fresh tears falling down her cheeks. 

Surprised, Kurt looked to Santana and Sebastian, who only gravely returned his stare. Silently, Kurt ushered Rachel inside and towards the living room sofa, Sam staying to hold the door for Sebastian and Santana. 

“It was fucking gruesome,” Santana whispered to Sam, biting her lip. “I just,” she trailed off, sighing. Sam clapped her shoulder and gave a small smile. He turned to Sebastian, who ducked from his hand. 

“Don’t touch me,” he said cooly. Sebastian stood in the hall and watched as Kurt curled up into one end of the sofa, Rachel’s petite body pressed against his. He was holding her so tightly, so scared to let her go. Sam sat at the other end, Santana lying in the vee of his legs with one of his arms wrapped around her body. 

“I’m going to go,” Sebastian said softly, heading up the stairs towards Sam’s room. He knew there was nothing he could say or do that would comfort Rachel; she needed her friends. He didn’t _really_ care, or fit in, or anything with this group. This whole situation was so fucking weird. It was no surprise to him that not one of the other kids said anything regarding his absence seeing as how they probably hated him as much as he hated them. 

Pushing the door, Sebastian made his way inside and opened the curtains in the room, flopping onto the bed. He groaned, feeling selfish and guilty and actually _scared_. Fuck these people for giving him these emotions, he hadn’t felt this bad since he accidentally slushied Blaine in the face (and he felt really terrible about that, he would never hurt Blaine, ever.) 

Fuck Kurt Hummel with a rusty spike. Seriously. That dickbag made Sebastian’s senior year a pain in the ass, always desperately hanging off of Blaine, always flaunting his relationship in Sebastian’s face. 

Sebastian continued grumbling about everything to himself when he heard a firm knock at the door. 

“Go away,” Sebastian snapped, “I’m trying to sleep.” 

Creaking filled the room as Kurt swung open the door, hands firmly placed upon his hips. 

Sebastian just glared. “Are you fucking stupid, do you not understand the meaning of ‘go away’? Or have you inhaled too much hairspray or something, clearly affecting your cognitive functioning?” 

Kurt rolled his eyes, pursing his lips. “Can we talk? Santana pulled me aside and told me what happened with Rachel’s dads. You’re being kind of rude, cloistering yourself off up here and not comforting her.” 

Standing up, Sebastian peered down at Kurt incredulously. “Why the hell would I _comfort_ her? She’s not my friend, I don’t give a shit about Rachel. Before today, I didn’t even know her name.” 

“ _What_ is your problem, are you that goddamn heartless that you can’t even console a poor girl who has just lost her parents? Don’t you feel anything?” Kurt challenged, staring intensely. 

“Yes, as a matter of fact I do, Kurt. I feel shit, just like the rest of you losers downstairs. I _get it_ , okay?” Sebastian gritted through his teeth, brows still furrowed. 

The look on Kurt’s face softened ever so slighty. He reached out, ghosting his fingers over the the boy’s upper arm. “Sebastian,” Kurt murmured. 

Swiftly, Sebastian smacked (admittedly, a bit _too_ hard) Kurt’s hand away from his arm, backing up. “Don’t fucking touch me.” 

“You are such an asshole,” Kurt screamed, charging towards the door. He gripped the doorknob between his fingers and turned around to face Sebastian before slamming the door behind. “I wish you dead and not the Berry’s.” 

“I wish _you_ were dead,” Sebastian retorted, quietly, as he sat back on the bed. Kurt couldn’t hear him, he was probably halfway down the stairs by now. Sebastian grabbed Sam’s pillow and clutched it against his chest, drawing his knees against his body. He remained in that position for quite some time, his eyes eventually closing and breathing becoming steady. 

Sebastian woke up forty five minutes later and made his way down towards the living room. Lying on the couch was Rachel, a mug of something in her hands. Sam sat on the floor in front of her, his head resting against her waist. They both turned in Sebastian’s direction, Rachel smiling weakly and Sam waving him over. 

“Come sit down, dude. Kurt and Santana are in the basement finding something we can eat for dinner. Do you want some of the tea I made for Rachel? There’s plenty to go around,” Sam offered. 

Sebastian took a seat in the armchair across from them. “No. No, thank you,” he amended, remembering that he truly didn’t have any qualms with Sam. Only with Kurt, that bastard. And, Santana to some lesser extent. Bitch. 

The three sat in silence, Rachel’s quiet slurps of tea the only noise in the room, until Santana and Kurt traipsed up the stairs, arms full of cans and frozen dinners. Kurt’s bright look immediately dissipated upon seeing Sebastian, anger seeping into his face. 

“Oh, you’re here. Dinner will be ready soon, and you’re _extremely_ lucky that I am feeding you with the limited food I have. If it wasn’t for Rachel, your ass would be freezing outside as we speak,” Kurt spat, moving into the kitchen with Santana on his heels. 

Sebastian turned to Rachel, who only gave another weak, sad smile. 

“You were willing to defend me in my bedroom,” she said, shrugging. “I owe you a little bit at least.” 

Sam stood up from the floor, stretching his arms and groaning as his joints cracked. “I’m going to help make dinner. Rachel, you don’t have to help if you don’t want to. Sebastian?”

“No, no, I will assist,” Rachel said, setting down her mug and pulling herself to her feet. “Wallowing here isn’t going to do me much good, I’d prefer to be distracted.” 

Sebastian watched as Sam headed into the kitchen. He stood up, too, and stopped Rachel before she left the living room. Quickly, Sebastian wrapped his arms stiffly around Rachel’s shoulders and pulled her into an awkward, forced embrace. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, painfully quiet. He withdrew his arms as if he had been burned and followed Sam towards the kitchen hurriedly before Rachel became overly emotional by his sudden sympathy, or became a bit too smug for his own liking. 

The group made another makeshift dinner and sat down at the table to eat. As their previous meal, they ate in uncomfortable silence. Once again, it was Santana to speak up. 

“So, do we have a plan here? I mean, how much longer before the city loses electricity and shit? Are we just going to sit here and rot in this stupid house? No offense, Hummel,” she added, shoveling a fork full of SpaghettiOs into her mouth. 

“Oddly enough, none taken, Santana,” Kurt mused, twirling his spoon in his soup. “But, you’re right, we do need a plan of attack. I feel it would be best if we just stayed here and made use of the electricity we have for the time being. Once all resources have been exhausted, then we can decide what to do. Sound good?” 

Everyone nodded in agreement, until Rachel spoke up. “They were frozen in the snow.” 

Heads swiveled in her direction. 

“What do you mean?” Sam asked. “What was frozen?”

Rachel swallowed her mouthful of juice and continued. “This morning when Sebastian was driving us to my house I noticed all the living dead were...dead. Overnight, their bodies must have frozen from the winter temperature. So, I feel that we should flee to somewhere chilly. That way, we aren’t found out here by the...zombies.” She looked at her friends (and Sebastian) and sighed. “Sam, what do you think? You know how these monsters operate.” 

Heads swiveled in his direction. 

“Well,” Sam sighed, “you have a point, Rach. There have been cases where the arctic temperatures and whatnot have, like, killed off zombies and stuff. If these guys are like those guys, there’s a chance that camping outside would protect us. Like, I mean, when we lose electricity, houses will still be warm enough that it would attract zombies and we would probably spend the rest of our lives huddled in the basement with weapons in our hands.” 

Sam’s proclamation was met with deafening silence until Santana’s fork clanked in the bowl below. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. So you’re telling us, guppy, that you want us to fucking camp out like a bunch of boy and girl scouts in some forest like with tents and shit in the _winter_? I am not okay with this,” she exclaimed. 

“Me neither,” Kurt admitted, “I’m not a fan of camping, and winter camping at that. We will develop frostbite or hypothermia or something and die in the forest, as opposed to dying in my semi-warm house.” 

Sebastian had enough of this bitching from _those_ two. Of course they would be the ones opposed to the only smart idea from this lot of dumbasses. “Wow, can you two shut up for one second and listen to what your boyfriend and girlfriend are saying? No matter what we do, we’re going to die. So, let’s just fucking prolong this death with the only sensible solution. You guys can have fun in this house while I am surviving in the cold with the corpses of frozen zombies rotting around me.” 

Santana scowled, pointing her fork in his direction. “Hey, she’s not my -”

“Even if I agreed with Rachel’s idea,” Kurt interrupted, “I don’t own any camping equipment, genius. Where do you propose we get some?” 

Sebastian leaned back in his chair nonchalantly. “The mall? Isn’t there some piece of shit camping store in your Lima mall or whatever? We can go loot the place tonight and take what we need.” 

Kurt turned to Santana, frowning. “This is probably the only time you will _ever_ hear me say this, but I really don’t want to go to the mall.” 

Sam huffed out a laugh. “I don’t mind going with you, Sebastian. And hey, this would be a wicked time for you to test run that chainsaw out in case we run across a whole horde of zombies.” 

The colour drained from Rachel’s face. “I think I will stay here, if you don’t mind. Kurt and I can watch over the house. Santana, are you staying too?” 

Growling, Santana exhaled sharply. “ _No_ , I’ll come to the mall. Just know, that with every zombie I smack with my baseball bat, I’ll picture it’s your ugly little face,” she smirked, glancing to Sebastian. 

“Alright, it’s like the S Squad or something. Sam, Sebastian and Santana,” Sam pointed out, beaming. “Let’s grab our coats. S Squad Assemble!” 

“Disgusting,” Sebastian muttered, clearing his plate. He moved to the hall, pulled on his coat, and grabbed his keys. Sam and Santana followed him to his BMW, piling into the car. He sneered as he heard Kurt and Rachel calling from the doorstep, shouting “I love you” into the brisk night. Sebastian sped down the street towards the North Hills Mall. 

“Holy fucking shit,” Santana breathed as Sebastian approached the shopping centre. It was absolute mass chaos, with cars speeding throughout the parking lot in every direction, people running with arms full of things and shouting hysterically. The three tentatively got out of the car, clutching their weapons in hand, and ran towards the front entrance. 

When they got close enough to the door, a wave of nausea hit Sebastian like a brick wall. The mall smelled like shit and blood and whatever the fuck else was out there. Broken shards of glass littered the linoleum, security alarms blaring from various stores and smashed display cases. 

“The camping store is this way,” Sam shouted over the panic, pointing down an escalator. 

They ran through the halls, shoving screaming people out of their way. Sebastian was probably getting a bit too much joy out of pushing innocent bystanders, but whatever. They shouldn’t be in a mall in the middle of the zombie apocalypse if they can’t handle it. 

Sam and Santana darted into the camping store and immediately began to grab sleeping bags, tents, camping lights, and everything else they thought was necessary. Just as Sebastian was about to follow them inside, something knocked into him and caused him to bowl over. 

“What the fuck,” Sebastian snarled. He looked down to what had hit him and he felt his heart stop in his chest. “Blaine?” he croaked. 

Sure enough, Blaine Anderson was lying on the ground next to Sebastian, wiping shards of glass and dirt from the knee of his pants. “Sebastian, oh my God, I can’t believe it’s you!” Blaine gasped, smiling that bright, stupidly gorgeous smile of his. 

Sebastian just stared back dumbfounded. Of course Blaine would look so fucking sexy in the middle of a zombie attack, his hair curling against his scalp and large eyes shining. Even though he had the sneaking suspicion Blaine hated him (fucking _Kurt_ ), he seemed pretty happy to see Sebastian, which only made him more nervous than previously before. 

“What are you doing here?” Sebastian asked, pulling himself to his feet. 

“I came here with my dad, we ran out of food and all the grocery stores have been completely ransacked in my neighbourhood. I should ask why you’re in a Lima mall, though. What happened to Westerville?” 

Sebastian moaned. “I, uh, actually am here with Santana and Sam. I ran into them and Kurt and Rachel at the Lima Bean and we’ve kind of grouped together. Even though I still hate them, of course,” Sebastian stumbled, looking at Blaine, whose face dropped in confusion. 

“Oh. That is...oh. Kurt, really? I’m glad he’s alright. And, Sam and Rachel and Santana too of course. And you, Sebastian, I’m really glad you’re okay. I was so worried about my friends but I didn’t want to call anyone for fear they didn’t...pick up. But wow, this makes me feel better, given the circumstances.” Blaine grinned up at Sebastian and ran his hand down Sebastian’s arm. 

“Fuck,” Sebastian sighed. “Look, I’m sorry for all the stupid shit I did this year. I’m really fucking sorry Kurt dumped you because of me, I’m really fucking sorry I slushied you. I didn’t mean for you to hate me, you’re the last goddamn person I wanted to dislike me and I fucked it all up.” 

Blaine led Sebastian away from the camping store entrance towards a set of benches in front of a large bay window. He sat down, motioning for Sebastian to join him. 

“Look, it’s not all your fault. Well, the slushie was, but I went behind Kurt’s back too. If Kurt would rather be with some bottle blond, then that’s his decision. But, don’t feel too bad, Sebastian. We are in a life or death situation and I would hate for you to feel such remorse over something so trivial.” Blaine took one of Sebastian’s hands into his own and rubbed his thumb soothingly over his knuckles. 

“Blaine,” Sebastian breathed, staring down at their intertwined fingers. He closed his eyes, leaning in closer to Blaine. 

He felt a jarring pull from Blaine’s end, an accompanying sickening smash of glass filling his ears. 

Two zombies broke through the bay window, their greying claws digging into Blaine’s skin, hauling him back through the razor sharp shards. 

“Blaine,” Sebastian screamed, lunging for the other boy’s legs. He grabbed them, attempting to pull the other boy back towards him. _This can’t be happening. This can’t._

Warm blood sprayed across Sebastian’s face, the sticky metallic liquid dripping down his lips. He looked up to see the zombies shredding the skin from Blaine’s face, their black fingernails puncturing his throat and tearing it open. Blaine’s body involuntarily spasmed then fell slack as the zombies pulled muscle and sinew from his throat and face, licking the blood clean from their fingers. 

Tears stung and prickled Sebastian’s eyes as he stood there like an _idiot_ , watching. Eventually, he picked up the chainsaw and pulled the cord, stumbling back from the kick back of the machinery. He lurched forward, anger coursing through his veins, as he began dismembering the limbs from the zombies, more blood splattering his already covered face. 

_Don’t you dare cry, Smythe_. 

The zombies dropped Blaine’s body, thudding it in the window frame as more glass punctured his mangled corpse. 

“Oh my God,” Sebastian heard from behind. He turned around to see Santana and Sam, their faces drained of colour, staring. 

“Was that,” Santana trailed off, stepping closer to the body. She recoiled when she looked at the face (or what was left of it). “Blaine?” she groaned. 

“ _Blaine_!” Sam shouted. “Those zombies just tore off _Blaine’s_ face? Holy shit, dude.” 

Sebastian slammed the chainsaw on the ground. “Let’s just get out of here, there’s probably more to come.” When Sam and Santana didn’t move, Sebastian pushed passed them. “Haul ass.” He jogged out of the mall and towards his car. It didn’t even register in his mind what Sam and Santana were even carrying and he didn’t really care. Blaine just died in front of him, his face and throat torn to shreds in front of his eyes. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Sam and Santana fall back in the parking lot. 

“What’s the hold up, bitch?” he snapped. Santana dropped whatever the hell she was carrying because she was picking up...some piece of purple fabric? “I don’t have time for your shit.” Sebastian hauled her to her feet by her wrist, thrust the camping equipment into her arms, and dragged her towards the BMW. 

Once they all buckled their seatbelts, Sebastian took off towards Kurt’s house. The majority of the trip was spent in silence, Sebastian driving as reckless as ever. He didn’t even bother to wipe Blaine’s drying blood from his face. 

“We shouldn’t tell Kurt,” Sam mumbled from the back. “He doesn’t need to know this.” 

“ _Kurt_ doesn’t need to know?” Sebastian sneered. “Are you kidding?” 

“They dated, Sebastian,” Sam answered, “he shouldn’t hear what happened to his ex. It’ll only worry him.” 

Sebastian scoffed. “Yes, because we all care about the fragile constitution of poor, little Kurt Hummel.” 

Sam just grumbled under his breath, slinking down in his seat. Santana remained silent, fingering the muddy, shriveled fabric between her fingers. 

When Sebastian pulled into Kurt’s driveway, he sighed and hit his head against the steering wheel. Everything was so, so messed up. Blaine was dead. _Blaine was dead_. As he licked his lips, tasting the iron tang of blood, he let out a soft, choked sob. 

He needed revenge on those motherfuckers. 

He needed to massacre those bastards. 

He needed his mother.

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment! :)


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